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One day I was at a party in Harkness lounge and Liz, a fabulously beautiful girl I'd been stalking (in my typically incompetent way) introduced me to her roommate, a somewhat less beautiful girl named Biz. Biz and I hit it off right away and were soon making out in front of everybody on the couch. Yessir, things like that happen at parties, as disgusting as it sounds. She suggested I come home with her and do the old threesome thing with her and Liz. Whoah! I couldn't miss out on that! People labour whole lifetimes in exchange for a second of such glory.
The half mile back to the middle of campus was the most physically painful walk in my life.1 And I wasn't done with the evening, either; I crashed a party of dorks on College Street. I wasn't there long. Someone wielding a baseball bat tried to kick me out. But something about the experience with the girls had me fearing nothing, and I mocked my attacker. He backed down, baseball bat and all, and magnanimously, I departed.
Boy did I have a story to tell at the ongoing sausage party at Frank's Afterhours (Harkness 303).
opening is Friday, October 3rd, from 6-9pm in the Downtown Artspace, under the Jefferson Theatre near the center of the Downtown Mall in Charlottesville, Virginia.
I'll be there too, so why not you?
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I do stuff like that for Jen because she's cool like that.
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S |
I went all the way in to Comet to find a copy of Jen's emailed show information. Too bad, she'd sent it as a Pagemaker file, and there's not a single working copy of Pagemaker anywhere at my place of employ. So I made a little text-only promotional spot and put it on this very page. A musings entry is a pretty high-traffic page for a day or two, so perhaps my ordeal will actually pay off for this Friday's show.
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In addition to the vodka and my usual shopping items (cans of soup, a loaf of bread and many packages of ramen), I bought a whole rotisserie chicken. True to my gluttony, I ate three fourths of it the instant we got back home. The chicken was so wonderfully greasy that it afforded me the opportunity to oil my boots.
Another thing I don't like is Angela's insistance on Matthew drinking lots of alcohol. For example, tonight she boldly suggested that Matthew and her finish the whole half gallon of vodka before morning. It's difficult for Matthew to simply laugh off such a suggestion. Evidently Angela thinks it's cute for Matthew to drink so much or that it makes him more likely to want to head upstairs. But you know, he's got enough of his own reasons to be drinking without her adding a few of her own.
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Brick Mansion in the 'Hood Sam was pretty drunk, and when he's drunk, he gets really friendly, if you know what I mean. He's one of our few bisexual male friends (by contrast, all the girls claim to be bisexual, even the nonsexual ones). Anyway, it seems Sam used to have sort of a crush on Matthew. But you know, Matthew is kind of spoken for again these days, and it wasn't like Sam was attracted to Peggy's brother Pete. Guess who that left as the recipient of all Sam's friendly energy?
It was a little hard to take, so I went off to my room to resume my prework nap.
Get a sense of what I was like exactly eight years ago and one year ago today.
1I know that among women, the concept of "blue balls" seems like a fiction designed by men to encourage sympathy fucks. Let me assure everyone, though, that I've had blue balls on many occasions and they hurt. They're caused by incomplete sexual acts. Nonetheless, having an orgasm doesn't immediately reverse the pain.2This morning at 9:00am I saw lots of sharp-dressed middle-aged and elderly men scattered around the University of Virginia campus, standing at all the major walkways. They were handing out little green books, bibles I suppose. Did they really think there were university students out there without access to bibles?